Drone alone
The Curtain Society continue to make pop their way
by John O'Neill
If at all familiar with the sounds of the Worcester-based Curtain Society,
you'd be inclined to think they're a dower bunch of fellas. Brooding,
introspective, maybe a little bit too serious -- they're like the misunderstood
kid who dresses in black and stays in his room to write poetry while the rest
of the class is at the keg party. It's a point they're acutely aware of and
make passing reference to it no-less than three times at a recent sit down.
"We sound like we take it seriously, and I wouldn't be surprised if people
think we're bitter," offers guitarist Roger Lavallee of the band's outlook.
"But, we're having a good time . . . it's not
get-up-and-party-music."
Just one example in a long line of mysterious misinformation that
surround the Curtain Society, who for the past ten years existed on a plane
somewhere between the fringes of local curiosity and international renown.
Always part of the Worcester scene but generally on the outside looking in,
misunderstood by clubgoers as a goth band, mislabled by promoters as a Cure
clone, and roundly ignored or dismissed by the established Boston media at a
time when they were packing Boston's better clubs, the unit have never fit in
on the regional circuit. Playing a wonderfully sweet and melodic form of
British-inspired pop, the band would seem too passé for the
next-big-thing hipsters in Beantown, and way too elegant for the hard-and-fast
rules of Worcester's scene. Instead, they found success in odd pockets and
across the Atlantic -- popular in France, adored in Columbus, Ohio, and, a
number-one radio hitmaker in, as improbable as it may sound, Des Moines, Iowa.
And while this far-reaching prosperity would have been maddening enough to
drive a nail into even the most optimistic band (after all, you can't just load
the van and head out to Lyon for the weekend), the Curtain Society are, all
things tallied, just happy to be making music.
"It's like growing hair, it's just happening," explains Lavallee. "We never
put conditions of `If we don't make it in three years we're breaking up.' We
have this open-ended ethic. We're doing it for esoteric reasons."
"It's the creative process that keeps us going," adds drummer Duncan
Arsenault, who joined up with Lavallee and bassist Ron Mominee five years ago.
"We're really doing this for no other reason than ourselves and hoping people
notice. The steps we've taken can't be taken away. They're sure steps and
they're positive."
The Curtain Society have also been turning out some of the more impassioned
and best-written material the area has ever seen, and there's no better example
of this than their last CD Life Is Long, Still (Bedazzled). Mining the
same shimmering, shoe-gazing landscape as their UK contemporaries, Life Is
Long ping-pongs between contemplative and beautifully aching ballads
reminiscent of Guy Chadwick's House of Love and wall-of-pop pedals and guitar
smashers that owe more to the harsher, yet no-less appealing sonic vibe of
Swervedriver and the Boo Radley's. Laden with effects, echoing guitar, chugging
bass, and Lavallee's understated vocals, Curtain Society create a dreamscape of
sound that alternates from forlorn to hopeful, soft to loud, and production
that goes from big to bigger. It is, at points, outrageously pretty and far
more than one should hope to expect from a small band on an even smaller label.
If this were England, these guys would have a legitimate shot at grabbing the
UK by the shorthair.
"I'm trying to write songs that I want to be my favorite songs, things
that give me the same goosebumps as `A Day In the Life,'" says Lavallee, who
needs no coaxing to identify those who weigh heavy on the band. "We aren't
afraid of our influences because we have our own sound . . . we're
always aware of it. Every year we change our equipment, it still sounds like
us!"
Ready to celebrate their 10th anniversary this Saturday at the Above Club, the
Curtain Society have no regrets and quietly continue their assault on success,
recently landing "Beautiful Song" as promo music on NBC, and contributing
"Swing/Evanston" to a compilation from the music 'zine Dewdrops. (For
the record, they've appeared on a total of seven comps a movie soundtrack; and
they've released two full-length CDs and two 7" on Bedazzled and seven
cassette-only projects on Lavallee's Apostrophe imprint). All they lack now is
a hit song, which may come with the new "Two Wonderful Stars." Still an
uncompleted track, the rough mix alone is arguably their strongest song to date
and one that adds Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys harmonies to the mix. Which
isn't that surprising given the boys' penchant for the large scale.
"We're an arena rock band trapped in an indie band," jokes Lavallee before
continuing his assessment. "We can look back and appreciate where we're at and
what we've done. We sort of break even, which is more than a lot of people can
say. . . . We're more successful than we ever thought we'd be."
Local Buzz
The saddest of news comes with the break-up of Halobox, who now
get to be remembered as the Little Band That Shoulda. Screwed-over by Life
Records and finally on the verge of releasing a five-song EP, the boys
bought the farm when guitarist Jay Carlin walked out. Bassist Pete DeGraaf and
drummer John Ledioux will continue on together as a rhythm section, while
second guitarist Chris Popecki may or may not be joining the remaining core of
this year's other great tragedy, Milltown. DeGraaf also will go into the
studio with his side project, Villain. Dave Green has left the
Magnificent Ambersons, former Flubber drummer Paul Plourde takes his
spot. Worcester/Allston soon-to-be-big-shots Garrison will have a
7" out on the Espo imprint by early January. The advance tape of
Thinner's second CD is out, and it sounds like another winner.
They'll now concentrate on live gigs starting in early '99. Das Fearless
Leaders will be heading into the studio to record tracks for a CD. The
Pathetics' Rich Lorian (who finally convinced the Hot Rod Men to get off
their duffs and take the plunge) is engineering the project. Finally,
Mezzoman, the CD replication house with a heart, lost its case versus
its former-parent company, Omnet, and have closed doors. It's a tremendous loss
to the music community, but don't count these kids out. They're far too
resourceful to roll over and play dead. More to come, we're sure.